Defy The Alpha(s) novel Chapter 521

Chapter 521: Deflecting The Alpha King

Violet should have felt like a small celebrity being escorted by this many people, but nerves prickled instead. She was about to meet Alpha King Elijah—her jealous uncle, the kind of man who wouldn’t think twice about snapping her head off if he discovered she was yet another abomination his brother had created.

But it wasn’t so bad, not when she had Griffin and Roman by her side, and Alpha Irene leading the way. Warmth bloomed in Violet’s chest at the thought of so many people being concerned about her. She had gone from that orphaned girl with a nonchalant foster mother to a girl blessed with two bonds and a new family.

Every corner they turned, they ran into one or two people whose eyes widened at the sight of her, or more precisely, at the mating rune etched into her body.

Knowing what they were bound to face, Violet had dressed for the occasion. She wore a simple black crop top that allowed her to flaunt Roman’s mating rune on the side of her belly while Griffin’s rune spilled boldly down her neck, impossible to miss.

Because of Alpha Henry’s unexpected death, many people—werewolves and humans alike—were flooding the Alpha King’s residence to offer condolences, if not for grief then for appearance’s sake. That only made her stand out more. Those unaware of the situation simply stared at her with curiosity and intrigue, wondering who she was.

It was not long before they arrived at a door and the guard stationed at the entrance let them in. The first thing Violet noticed was that the sitting room was too big, too bright, and too full of eyes. Elijah had guests and now their eyes were on them, following their every movement.

There was no throne-like chair in the hall. It looked just like every other rich man’s living room with its high ceilings, polished wood gleaming beneath golden chandeliers, and walls crowded with expensive art and artifacts that probably cost more than most families earned in a lifetime.

Griffin had told her this was Elijah’s private residence. The king’s palace was back in the wolf region. Thanks to that, it made Elijah a little hard to locate.

Violet followed close behind Irene, who

hadn’t faltered once, walking with a straight posture and her head lifted high. There was no hesitation in the way she cut through the room toward three men in quiet conversation.

Irene stopped before them, bowed her head slightly, and said to the one in the middle, "Your Majesty."

The men fell silent.

Irene stepped aside, and Violet’s gaze collided with Elijah’s. For a heartbeat, she forgot how to move, or rather, how to breathe.

It wasn’t just that Violet was looking at a king. It was that she was staring into the eyes of her uncle, the man whose blood was tied to hers. To her father.

The pictures hadn’t done Elijah justice. Her uncle was a handsome man, which wasn’t all that surprising since nearly every werewolf carried that same hot, impossible kind of beauty. He could have easily passed for someone in his late forties, though she knew he was much older than that. All thanks to those werewolf genes.

Violet hadn’t even realized she’d been gaping until his voice cut through her thoughts.

"Violet Purple," Elijah said, smooth and commanding, "finally, we meet."

Violet remembered her manners at that moment and bowed her head slightly. "Your Majesty."

Beside her, she felt Roman and Griffin bow in courtesy.

Then she lifted her gaze only to catch Elijah staring at her intently. The intensity made her skin prickle.

Did he know something? No, impossible. If the Alpha King had any proof they killed Henry or caused that explosion, she wouldn’t be standing here. She’d already be cooling her heels in a prison cell, or worse, waiting under the executioner’s block if he wasn’t feeling merciful.

"Golden eyes..." Elijah muttered suddenly.

Violet froze. Her pulse spiked, and she remembered too late that werewolves could pick up on more than words. They could smell lies, fear, and even the rise of someone’s pheromones. And right now, hers were probably over the roof. She couldn’t give anything away!

Elijah continued, brows arched. "...Do you know how rare it is for a human to have those?"

Violet should have been intimidated by Elijah’s stare, but instead her mind drifted. Her eyes stayed on him, yet her thoughts wandered miles away. She thought about Griffin’s abs, those ridges etched deep like stone she could trace with her tongue.

Irene did not utter a word as they left the living room. Her strides were brisk, her face composed, and not once did she look back at them. The silence stretched, heavy and tense, until she finally led them into another room and closed the door behind them.

Then, as if a dam had broken, Irene burst into wild laughter. It was so sudden and so intense that for a moment, Violet feared the woman had lost her mind.

"Good work," Irene managed between peals of laughter, her hand pressed to her chest. "That was a good strategy for deflecting those questions."

Violet blinked, heat rising to her face. She hadn’t been strategizing at all—just embarrassingly distracted—but Irene didn’t need to know that.

However, the humor in Irene’s expression soon shifted and she said, "But that won’t work next time. You only have tonight here, then it’s to the West pack. There we can avoid Elijah’s presence more easily. For today, you three work together. You don’t slip, and don’t give him a reason to dig further."

Violet’s throat tightened at those words but Roman’s hand brushed hers, a silent reassurance, while Griffin gave a short nod of acknowledgment.

"Good," Irene said finally, straightening up. "Now freshen up. I’ll come back for you later. I can’t stay here for long, there’s too many eyes here before the old bastard begins to think I’m plotting something else."

To Roman, Irene told him, "I’ll inform your father you’re busy. You guys better be good."

With that, she swept out of the room, leaving them alone.

It was only then Violet noticed the space prepared for them. The room was lavish, the walls draped with rich fabrics, and a bed so large it could have easily fit three—maybe more—its velvet sheets a deep crimson. Violet stared at it, her cheeks heating again. Irene gave them this room on purpose.

Before Violet could say a word, Roman had already crushed his lips against her hard while Griffin leaned in, kissing her neck.

She had started this fire and now, would quench it.